


your smile in the back of my mind

by thekaidonovskys



Series: After the Drift [8]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, The Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His own mind is orderly, thoughts falling in natural progression, and from what Hermann remembers of Drifting with Newt the first time, he remembers vibrance and chaos. But with everything switched off, it’s just empty and cold and no wonder Newt can’t actually stand being in his own head when it’s like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your smile in the back of my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted by Tumblr user thekaidonovskys. A bit of a follow-up from Part 5

_“That’s what the Jaeger pilots do; share the neural load.”_

_***_

It’s a bad day for Newt. 

Hermann can tell immediately when he arrives at the lab and Newt’s already there, staring vacantly at his desk. He looks exhausted and distressed and Hermann goes straight to him, seeing all he needs to in Newt’s eyes when he looks up. “Too quiet?” he asks.

Newt nods, and everything about the way he’s moving is just worn out. “I hate this,” he says, and his voice isn’t even petulant, just flat. “Should probably just go back to bed.”

“You won’t sleep though,” Hermann reminds him gently. 

“At least I’ll be out of your hair. I’m useless today.”

“You are never useless. Come and sit on the couch with me?”

Newt agrees and follows him there. Everything about him is like a shadow of his normal self and Hermann detests it, but he also needs to know how deep it’s running today. So he sits down on the couch, watches Newt do the same, then tries not to sigh when Newt immediately tucks his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. “I know,” Newt says a second later. “I just can’t do anything else.”

“I know, and it’s okay.” It’s not exactly okay - balling up means Newt just feels empty, with not even the energy to have any emotions over what’s going on, and that’s particularly bad - but Newt knows what he means anyway. “Can you think of anything that might help?”

Newt shakes his head. “And I - I’m sorry, I really am, but I just don’t think I can even handle being touched right now.”

Hermann’s kept his distance for that reason, needing to be sure, and nods. “You don’t have to apologize, ever,” he says. “This is not your fault. What do you need?”

“Thoughts. Noise. But not  _noise_.”

“So music won’t help?”

“Don’t think so. It’s not that I’m freaking out about it being quiet like last time, it’s just that I’m too tired to care. Without my mind, all of my energy is gone too. I have no reason to do anything.”

“Okay.” Hermann thinks for a moment, then remembers something else he should probably confirm. “Is my presence a bad thing?”

“No,” Newt says immediately. “No, god no, if it was I would’ve just stayed in my room. I don’t want comfort, but I want you here. And I know that’s fucking needy and -“

Hermann shushes him. “You can need as much as you want, and I will provide whatever I can. I wouldn’t leave your side unless you required it anyway. Now, am I talking too much? Or not enough? You said that conversation sometimes helps.”

“Uh-huh. But it’s not really doing it today. It’s like your voice just doesn’t get into my mind, into that place where I can really think and… and where  _I_ am.”

Hermann nods. “Then we need another solution.” 

He thinks again, trying to figure out how to help. The outside noise isn’t getting into Newt’s brain; what he really needs is a direct cable, a way to get his voice and thoughts and  _self_ right into Newt’s mind and -

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Do you feel up to taking a short walk?”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Good. Unball and come with me.”

He stays close to Newt as they walk down the hall, but not close enough to irritate. Newt keeps his eyes down, and Hermann shakes his head at the few worried looks they get as they head towards the lifts. Everybody’s so used to Newt being a live wire that it’s clearly a little startling to see him so quiet and as much as their concern is appreciated, Hermann knows anything could flip Newt over to the emotional side of his silence. He’d rather avoid that if possible. 

It’s a Thursday morning, so the lab he’s after should be empty, and sure enough it is. Hermann swipes them in - the room stays locked, and he and Newt are the only scientists on their floor with access to it - and turns on the lights. “The next scheduled test is at one,” he says, consulting the chart. “We have four hours.”

“What’re we doing here?”

Hermann opens the closet next to the chart and removes two helmets, turning back to Newt with one in each hand. “We’re Drifting. Or, in other terms, I’m going directly to your brain to see if I can put some noise in there.”

Newt stares for a second, then actually smiles. “You are too brilliant.”

“That’s okay?”

“Of course it is. And if it works…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hermann says as they sit down, handing Newt his helmet. “It might end up being worse rather than better, and if it is, break the connection. Though I’m sure I’ll know immediately anyway.”

Newt nods. “Okay. I don’t know what it’s going to be like in there, so I’m sorry in advance.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Hermann says, adjusting his helmet and picking up the remote. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

And they Drift. 

The wave of memories hits hard and fast, both of their lives read and absorbed in the blink of an eye. Reality is forgotten as the neurons connect, and then washes back over them. And it’s at this point where, the first time they Drifted, the connection broke and they were left reeling as the Kaiju memories all became clear.

But this is different. This is Drifting as it’s intended to be. 

Drifting with the Kaiju had been necessity - once they had gotten what they needed, they had broken the connection. But most Drifts, or at least Jaeger pilot Drifts, go far longer than that initial rush of memories. They go right into the mind, into the here and now. And it’s not a landscape or something where they lose touch with reality - they wouldn’t be able to fight or pilot the Jaegers if it were - but it’s the simple feeling of being in two places at once. Not that it’s simple at all. 

Hermann doesn’t need to keep hold of reality, though. So he falls through the memories, lands in Newt’s brain, and stays right where he is, letting his awareness to his outer body fade into the background as he settles into the unseen, the unexplainable. Waiting. Listening. 

And he understands the silence. 

His own mind is orderly, thoughts falling in natural progression, and from what Hermann remembers of Drifting with Newt the first time, he remembers vibrance and chaos. But with everything switched off, it’s just empty and cold and no wonder Newt can’t actually stand being in his own head when it’s like  _this_. 

Hermann needs to fix it. 

He pushes a tentative thought out into the not-world, just to try and understand how it works, and there’s a response. It’s not strong, but it’s involuntary, and it means that he’s being heard - not through Newt’s ears, but through his mind. 

He settles in and begins to think. 

He runs through calculations he’s done over the past few days, slowly, checking his answers. He thinks through conversations he’s had, running each word over and examining the tone, inflection and meaning. He brings up memories of Newt, and lays his emotions bare. Anything and everything that might give reason for Newt to think about, Hermann thinks it out. 

And slowly but surely, there’s signs of life around him. Of waking up, of listening and understanding. 

A calculation springs to the front of the not-world - one of his, off his board, but with an intonation of questioning. Hermann strips it down, explains it, and feels understanding return. In answer, he gives his own question, a biological reaction that he didn’t quite get when Newt ran through it last week. And the response is clear and intelligent, and Hermann knows his job is done. 

He breaks the connection as gently as possible and falls back into his own mind. 

It takes a few moments to readjust, to be familiar with sensation again. Once he’s aware, Hermann opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is Newt’s smile. It’s beautiful. “Did that help?” he asks.

“That was easily the most amazing thing anybody’s ever done for me,” Newt says quietly. “And I actually thought I couldn’t fall any further in love with you, until now.”

Not even ten minutes ago, Hermann would have waved that away as pure sentiment, or Newt exaggerating as usual. But there’s a difference, after being that deep in someone’s brain, and Hermann knows Newt means it. He’s left without words - not exactly flustered, just perfectly aware that he can’t say anything that would actually express how he feels - and chooses instead to wrap his arms around Newt’s neck and kiss him. 

That said, he does find a few words when they resurface, and puts them out there, as difficult as it is for him to express plain and unveiled sentiment like this. It’s one thing to call Newt  _love_ or  _darling_ , to tell him he loves him… because those are all things he  _knows_. What Hermann struggles with is to share the things his heart is saying. 

But he does it this time because, after that, how could he not?

“I’ve never felt closer to you,” he says. “I thought after the first Drift that it was as connected as we would get but… but your mind and your - your  _soul_ , and everything about you is beyond anything one Drift could ever show. And I almost wish I could be in your mind constantly to be able to know you that well and… when people say  _you’re beautiful inside and out_ , it always seemed needlessly poetic but - but it’s true. You are.”

Newt’s smile is worth the awkwardness. And usually he’d tease Hermann because  _poetry_ , but this time he seems to know better. “You’re not half bad yourself,” he says, and kisses him again. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and really there’s no place better to be… until Newt pulls away, tilting his head to the side in contemplation. “I wonder what sex would be like while Drifting,” he says.

And  _dear god_ , he’s being genuine. Hermann’s torn between laughter and indignation. “You won’t be finding out, rest assured,” he says, finally removing his helmet then taking Newt’s off for him. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said about Drifting with me at all,” Newt says, taking the helmets from Hermann and standing to put them away.

Hermann frowns as he picks up his cane and gets to his feet. “Did I?”

“Uh-huh. Like, three years ago? I was high on caffeine and no sleep, and I mentioned we should combine our brains and create a super brain and you said nothing was more repulsive. But look at us now.”

“Well, if you can wait three years, perhaps the idea of Drift sex will be less repulsive.”

“I can do that. I mean, hey, I’m kinda planning on being with you for a lot longer than three years.”

And they’re right back to sentimental. Hermann meets him at the door, taking Newt’s hand and squeezing gently. “Are you working on anything crucial today?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nothing that cannot wait until this afternoon. Shall we take the morning off?”

“Definitely. Especially if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“I can almost positively assure you that I’m not.”

Newt laughs. “I’m sure I’ll be able to sway you.”

Hermann’s pretty sure he will too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Poetic licence taken with the Drift. 
> 
> Title from "Everything Has Changed".


End file.
